


Don’t force me to go to another poetry night

by Hepzheba



Series: Tumblr ficlets [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Poetry, F/F, Fluff, Humor, M/M, POV Scott McCall, Poetry, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hepzheba/pseuds/Hepzheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "constantly trying to one-up each other at our favorite coffee-shop’s every-other-weekly poetry slam" AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t force me to go to another poetry night

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any knowledge of poetry slams and I don't write poetry, but the poetry in this isn't supposed to be good so there's always that.

If Scott was to blame someone for the reason they’re suddenly attending every single one of the coffee shop’s bi-monthly poetry slams, he’d blame himself. He heard Greenberg telling Aiden that Lydia had said that she and Allison were going there once three months ago and he had dragged a reluctant Stiles there because _Allison_.

They had sat a table behind Allison, Lydia and their college friends – from college! Scott never stood a chance with Allison when she was hanging out with stubbly, leather jacket wearing college students.

Okay, it was just one of them that had stubble, but all four of them wore leather jackets – they looked kind of like the gang from Grease except one of them was a girl.

To Scott’s huge surprise – and Stiles’ too, if his flailing and falling of his chair was any indication – the college student with the stubble was one of the people who went up on the teeny, tiny stage (he could barely fit his large bulk up there, that’s how tiny the stage-that-shouldn’t-be-allowed-to-be-called-a-stage was!)

Stubbly guy read his poem and people nodded along and then applauded loudly – Scott had been busy watching Allison’s brown eyes that glittered in the low lights to actually know what the guy had said, but apparently people liked it. Well, most people. Stiles didn’t seem to like it, if his rant afterwards when they were leaving was anything to go by – Scott didn’t listen to this either, he was busy having a minor heart attack because Allison smiled at him.

Scott asked Allison out two days later and he forgot all about the poetry reading.

Which is why he was so surprised when Stiles on a Monday evening forced Scott to sit on his bed while Stiles stood in the middle of his own bedroom and performing a one-man act of Star Wars – or something, Scott hasn’t seen Star Wars and he didn’t listen to Stiles, because Stiles rarely makes sense when he starts rambling, which he was now. When Stiles asked what he thought afterwards Scott, as a good best friend, said it was brilliant.

“Good,” Stiles said, “good.”

Little did Scott know that Stiles hadn’t actually quoted Star Wars, but recited his own poetry. When school let out the next day, Stiles made Scott swear that he’d come to the coffee shop that night, _not a minute after seven, Scott, promise me, okay?_

Scott had no idea what the importance of him being at the coffee shop was all about, but he didn’t have a date planned with Allison so he had planned on spending his evening with Stiles anyway – it didn’t matter if it was at the coffee shop instead of at one of their homes.

There were more people in the coffee shop than usual and Scott noticed Stiles sitting alone at a table by the side, leg jumping nervously.

It was first when the poetry slam was announced that Scott realized that it was another poetry night. He prepared himself to an hour of being half asleep and wondering why Stiles had dragged him here again, when Stiles suddenly got up from his chair and went up on the stage. He almost fell off twice before he managed to adjust the height of the microphone.

What he recited was vaguely familiar and Scott realized that it was the not-Star Wars quote from the day before. This time he actually listened and found himself snorting with the rest of the audience at just the right places. Stiles was hilariously sarcastic and witty, Scott knew this, but others rarely seemed to realized this. He was pleased that more people got to see this.

When Stiles walked back to their table, grinning widely after being applauded loudly, he smirked at a dark haired guy closer to the front and said, loud enough for most people to hear, “that’s how you do poetry.”

Scott laughed along with the others and then the dark-haired guy got up and read his own poetry – Scott didn’t understand it this time either, even if he actually did try.

 

This was three months ago and Scott thought Stiles’ sudden interest in poetry would waver after his second poetry slam (okay, Scott hadn’t even considered the thought that Stiles could ever interest himself in anything as boring and un-bloody as poetry before this), but Stiles continued to force him to go with him to the poetry readings. Usually Stiles grew tired of something really quickly, unless it was something really nerdy – which poetry admittedly was, but it didn’t contain any explosions, which made Scott confused why Stiles liked it.

Stiles’ poetry got better and people loved it. They loved him just as much as they loved Derek – the stubbly, leather jacket wearing college guy whom Stiles had formed some kind of poetry war against. They had taken to sit right next to Derek and his leathery gang and Scott mostly talked to Isaac, who seemed to share his confusion over poetry in general.

One night, Erica – the only girl in the leather gang – rolled her eyes and said that they were so stupid. Scott asked who and Boyd – Erica’s quiet boyfriend – rolled his eyes and pointed at Stiles and Derek with his thumb. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument by the counter.

“They’re so bad at flirting that they just pull the other’s metaphorical pigtails,” Boyd said.

It might have been the most Boyd had ever spoken to him.

It also made so much sense. Stiles never got this invested in anything. Except when he was interested in someone. When they had an exchange student in school from France whom Stiles took interest in, the guy learnt passable French in two weeks. Of course, the girl went home to her French boyfriend after spending a month at their school without giving Stiles a second glance.

So it made so much sense that Stiles tried to woo Derek. Scott would admit that bashing someone else’s poetry in your own poetry might not be the best way to go, but Derek did the same to Stiles so maybe he thought it was the perfect way?

They’d soon figure their shit out and Scott didn’t have to come to these boring poetry nights anymore.

 

Three poetry nights later and they _still_ hadn’t figured anything out, so Scott decided to take action into his own hands. At the next poetry night, he entered the stage for the first – and hopefully last – time of his life.

> “I know I’m not the smartest in school  
>  But that doesn’t mean you can take me for a fool  
>  I know what you’re trying to do, bro  
> I think you’re doing it the wrong way though  
> Ask him out for food  
> Or maybe a walk in the wood  
>  Just don’t force me to go to another poetry night  
> And Derek, please go out with Stiles without a fight.”

Everyone laughed and applauded. Stiles’ face was red and so was Derek’s ears, but when their eyes met they exchanged shy smiles and Scott rejoiced in the fact that he’d never have to go to another poetry night ever again.


End file.
